


The Irrefutable Truth about Winchesters: It's always what you never expect

by Koyote19



Category: Irrefutable Truth About Demons (2000), Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, background Harry/Bennie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 02:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koyote19/pseuds/Koyote19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's past at Stanford comes back to haunt him. And Dean meets Bennie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Irrefutable Truth about Winchesters: It's always what you never expect

**Author's Note:**

> Crossover SPN/Irrefutable Truth about Demons. Set vaguely in 2008. No spoilers for SPN, serious spoilers for The Truth about Demons (It takes place 2-3 years after the end of the movie). 
> 
> Once upon a time, there was supposed to be more.

“You have to help him,” the young man said earnestly, doing his best impression of a sad-eyed puppy; if the puppy was possessed, anyway. Black eyes, too big for the pale face, widened earnestly.

“This is a dream,” Sam muttered, his gaze shifting from the metallic green sky above him, to the young man dressed in pajamas and sitting on the end of his bed in the middle of a deserted highway. Tumbleweeds and dust rolled along the edges of sand and asphalt to vanish into the distance.

“Well… yeah,” the man nodded and grinned, razor sharp fangs catching the sunlight. “Of course it is. I couldn’t be here otherwise.”

“And you are here—in my dream— because—?”

“Because my brother is looking for you, but you’re running out of time. He’ll believe you this time, by the way.”

“Who’s your brother?” Sam blinked again, edging back across the bed away from the mysterious guy with clammy skin, fangs and dead black eyes. “And why would he be looking for me?”

“It’s a long story, and you’re going to wake up before I get to the important bits anyway. Just watch out for Celia, and trust Harry when he shows up to help you, okay?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“For someone who believes in demons, you’re kind of a skeptic.” The young man shook his head sadly. “Look, I haven’t got long. They’ll realize I’m here soon, and you’ll be in even more danger than you already are. Just,” he hesitated, then winced, “just tell him I’m sorry I screwed up again. I’ll try to come back and help you, if I can.”

He held out an odd looking insect to Sam, even as he started to fade away. Sam edged a little farther back, as flesh turned translucent, until the only thing left was the grin and sharply curved fangs. With an odd pop, even those winked out, and the bug fell onto the rumpled covers and crawled straight at Sam. Above him, the metallic sky began to drip.

“Oh…shit…”

*

“Dr. Ballard?” Sam blinked up at the dark-haired man in shock, wincing at the sudden pain that lanced through his head from his temple to the base of his skull. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, Sam,” the man smiled ruefully. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

“Friends of yours, Sammy?” Dean set down both coffees, and moved to stand at Sam’s back, his eyes roving over the two strangers and lingering on the bare legs of the woman. Even in the middle of November, she was wearing a dress so short Sam could feel himself blushing.

“Dr. Ballard was a visiting professor while I was at Stanford.” Sam forced his eyes up, locking them onto Harry Ballard a little desperately. “I… I took one of his seminars my second semester.”

“Oh?” Dean was already losing interest, at the first mention of Stanford and Sam’s time away. “Aren’t you cold, miss…uh?”

The young woman bobbed a little and giggled, brushing unruly curls of brown and brilliant blue hair out of eyes caked with eye shadow the same shade. “Bennie. Nice to meet you…wasn’t sure we’d get here before _they_ did.” She thrust out a hand to Dean, then whirled around before he could take it and pointed up at the sky. “Pigeons, Harry!”

“Bennie,” Dr. Ballard sighed, ignoring her frantic motions for him to look up at the growing cluster of birds on the roof above them. “Call me Harry, Sam, I’m no longer an Anthropology Professor. And you are…?” He glanced curiously at Dean.

“This is my brother, Dean.” Sam frowned, the headache growing stronger now. Something about this was familiar, but he couldn’t remember why. “What are you doing back in the States? And why would you be looking for me?”

“It’s a long story, Sam. Let’s just say… some things have happened that made me realize you were right about the existence of demons. I’m sorry.”

“You came here from New Zealand to apologize for not believing me?” Sam blinked, and reached blindly for one of the cups of coffee. Bennie grabbed the second cup, and started emptying all the packets of Sweet and Low on the table into it, while Dean grumbled in protest. “Doctor…”

“Harry. And no, that’s not exactly why I’m here,” Harry sighed. “Though I do suppose I owe you an apology for flunking you.”

“You flunked Sam?” Dean started to laugh, then blinked. His expression darkened as he turned to glare at Sam. “Wait— you left home to go to school and be normal, and you told your professor about demons? Are you nuts?”

“It was kind of the subject of the class, and no, I didn’t exactly tell him about demons.” Sam could feel himself turning red. Again.

“The subject of the class? Dude, what kind of fucked up Pre-Law shit were you taking? Ethics in Hell 101?”

“Magic, Witchcraft and Religion,” Sam muttered under his breath. “I needed an Anthropology credit for my core, I was swamped trying to cram in all the prerequisite classes I needed before my sophomore year, and it sounded like an easy A.”

“And you flunked it?” Dean’s eyes widened, and Sam could see the gears in his head grinding to a halt when that didn’t compute. “Dude, we both could have taught that class by the time we were twelve. How the hell do you, geek-boy extraordinaire, flunk a class on Magic and Witchcraft?”

“I had a professor that didn’t believe in demons, magic or religion, and kept trying to insist that they were just a metaphor for the innate insecurities of mankind, and our need for symbols to reassure us and act as crutches,” Sam growled. “Really not the point right now.” He turned back to stare at Harry. “Do you have a brother that thinks he’s a vampire, and is a dream walker? With a fucked up fascination with bugs?”

“You saw Richard?”

“More like he came looking for me in my sleep a few nights ago. He said you’d be coming. And to tell you he was sorry he screwed up again.”

“That was Richard,” Harry sighed. “He was killed by a demon worshiping cult a couple of years ago, but he still pops up in the dream realm when he wants to tell me something. Sorry if he freaked you out.”

“Harry… look.” All three men turned at the sound of Bennie’s voice, high-pitched with fright. “The pigeons.”

The ground around them was littered with the bodies of dead pigeons.

*

”Let me get this straight…” Sam shook his head, and wondered if maybe someone had slipped something into his beer last night to make the world turn so surreal on him. “Your ex was cheating on you with the head of a cult of freaks worshipping demons, killed your brother, tried to sacrifice you to steal your power, and ended up getting you and your new uh…girlfriend… committed to an asylum for three years.”

“Yes.”

“Was she this nuts before you guys got locked up?” Dean interrupted, his eyes following Bennie as she started twirling in circles beside the pond, occasionally stopping to pick up a rock from the pile at her feet and chuck it in the scummy green water. Each spin made the non-existent skirt ride up even higher, and Sam could only pray that there were no cops patrolling the park. As expected, Dean’s eyes were locked on the flashes of skin as her skirt flipped around the tops of her thighs, but for once his expression was not one of lust but of disbelief. “I can’t believe she’s not freezing in that…uh... dress…thing. And I can’t believe I’m suggesting that maybe she should put on a pair of pants, but--”

Harry grinned a little. Oddly enough, Sam did not find the expression reassuring.

“Unfortunately, yes. Le Valliant was her father. I don’t think growing up in a cult really prepares you for life outside of it. Or outside of an asylum, for that matter.”

“Apparently it doesn’t prepare you to wear pants either,” Dean muttered, shaking his head as another tossed rock bared Bennie to the small of her back. “Nice legs, though, even if she is all kinds of crazy.”

“Dean,” Sam glared at him, and Dean dragged his eyes away from Bennie to watch Harry instead. “So, you still haven’t said why you’re both here, and not still locked up in Wellington. You obviously still believe in Demons, so I kind of doubt they just decided you guys were both cured enough to go free.”

“After I killed Le Valliant, Celia took control of his estate, and the leadership of the cult.”

“What kind of crazy power did she have, man?”

”She’s a lawyer,” Harry said calmly, like that explained everything. “When Richard told me she’d headed for the United States, I knew that couldn’t be good. So we followed her. But Richard lost her in New York City.”

“You just…hopped on a plane. Straight from the asylum.”

“Well…not exactly, no,” Harry shrugged. “We stopped to get a few supplies together first. That part isn’t important, though.”

“Right. Which brings us back to—why’d you track me down? I was just one of about two hundred students you taught for one semester, five years ago.”

“And how’d you track him down?” Dean asked, his eyes narrowing warily.

“Because out of all the students I ever taught, you actually know the truth about demons. And they know about you. Celia can’t touch me, not now. But you… you’re more powerful than I could ever have dreamed of, and if she can take your power, it will be almost impossible for me to stop her.”

“And she knows I exist—how?”

“You aren’t exactly a well kept secret in the demon world.” Harry shook his head with another small smile. “They’ll show her how to find you, just like they showed me.”

“Right.” Dean stood up, the gun out of his jacket and leveled at Harry before Sam could do more than blink. “And on that note—time to go, Sam.”

“Dean, wait.”

“What part of he talks to demons did you not get? There is no way in hell I’m trusting this guy as far as I could throw him. Or his freaky girlfriend.”

“Go ahead, Dean. Shoot him,” Bennie hissed from right behind Dean’s shoulder, and Sam could see his brother jump. The gun stayed locked steadily on Harry though, barrel never wavering.

“She’s right. Shoot me.” Harry smiled again, amusement crinkling around his eyes.

“Dean, no—“

“It’s alright, Sam.” Harry shrugged. “Really, Dean. Go ahead and pull the trigger.”

“I— this is fucked up, Sam—“ Dean whispered, frozen helplessly in place as Bennie reached around to lock slender fingers around his own on the gun, her mad giggles sending shivers up both of their spines.

“No, man. It’s gonna be really cool. You’ll like this…” she tightened her grip, and Sam could see Dean wincing with pain as she forced his fingers tight on the trigger. The gun barked, and the recoil against tensed muscles knocked Dean and Bennie both back a step.

The bullet flew almost in slow motion, straight towards Harry’s chest. At the last minute, he reached up and casually closed his fingers around the bullet, like it wasn’t even moving. When he opened his palm again, the bullet was gone and there was a giant roach crawling between his fingers.

Sam felt the park spinning around him in sickening whirls of color and motion as the headache he’d been ignoring suddenly spiked behind his eye sockets. “I see you share Richard’s fascination with bugs,” he choked out, before everything faded to black.


End file.
